


*~The Blood Calls~*

by UOdragon63



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Action/Adventure, Aged-Up Character(s), Alternative Vampire Lore, Alternative Werewolf Lore, De-Aged Characters, Exploration, Major Original Character(s), Minor Original Character(s), Multi, My First Fanfic, Non-Linear Narrative, Original Character(s), POV Experimental, Slow Build, Unreliable Narrator, Vampires, Werewolves, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-19
Updated: 2018-11-21
Packaged: 2019-08-25 17:25:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16665052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UOdragon63/pseuds/UOdragon63
Summary: The Dragonborn is missing, the threat of the World Eater is long gone with him. The land of Skyrim has been hit by a long and unforgiving winter that doesn't seem to leave with the passing months. People hide in their homes as creatures of the night prowl the streets while the moons lay witness, the Dawnguard struggles to keep the dark ones at bay. The Companions have lost most of their members leaving the Circle the last few survivors who stand guard over their Hold of Whiterun. Dragons have been seen flying by villages but none attack any of the main cities; something keeping them occupied on the tallest mountains and harshest peeks in the south. Werewolves have depleted in numbers as the Silver Hand now occupies large resistance and training camps in the Rift as well as the Pale. Life as the people of Skyrim knew it has changed drastically after the war, will life as they knew it return to its unpredictable norm?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> * No spoilers * BUT I AM BREAKING YOUR IMMERSION~
> 
> Hello, to anyone reading x Call me UO, I just wanted to note that I will be playing around with lore and timeline of events, character backstories, family trees, ages and everything basically. I don't have the whole plot written down yet (but I have an idea and quite a few chapters drafted) so this first chapter is an experiment for now (prologue mostly). I am looking for feedback on my writing and any opinions, comments and such are very welcome x I am new to this website and writing stories in general. I hope that all the readers are of a mature age as I do plan to write more ehh sensitive content later, later... lateerrr on in the story.
> 
> This fanfic will probably make no sense if you haven't played Skyrim. Yes, I am changing a lot of it but I will not be explaining the world, or past missions unless its relevant. I personally hate when writers take a whole chapter or more describing things like dungeon crawling I've done in like 5 playthroughs already haha don't make me relive the game! aarhh! So I've decided to write something new... And I need you to decide how good or bad it is. x Enjoy x

**~5 years after the Dragonborn vanishes~**

**''Cold''**

 

Two paw like feet dragged through the biting snow, a wisp of a familiar smell crept into her numb nostrils. “Ma” the lost, broken figure whispers through chattering teeth. Snow petals brushed through her naked raw skin; cracked and bloody. “Why am I here?”, “who am I?”... “follow... the... scent” the mantra continued.

...~*~...

 

“Farkas!” A large nord clamped in dark armour howled at the top of his lungs. Panic beginning to take over his whole body. “FARKAS!” once again his desperate cry was swallowed by the cruel veil of snowfall. Virgin snow masking his brothers footsteps, separation was making him unbalanced, how long since they have been apart?  Four or five hours? Struggling to see anything in front of him, he gazed at the sky only to find it giving him no comfort.

Shivers ran down his whole body even when the blood in him pumped for two, one human, one wolf. The thick black fur cloak was now grey with clumps of snow sticking to the individual fibre. He stuck out covered in raven black Ebony armour among the pale scenery engulfing him in its spell.

“Far...” his shout ending half way as the white veil opened in the horizon relieving a distant distorted figure, walking towards him. In no time he rushed through the knee deep snow to meet his target.

 

...~*~...

 

“It's getting closer” she thought to herself. Was this a blessing that she no longer had to limp forward for the slight music of a beating heart to get louder, this familiar beat cooed her to slumber. Scent becoming stronger, different yet similar. She no longer continued to hunt for it, she was satisfied with what she already was hearing, she thought tears could no longer run down her frost covered face but they did. Rivers of ice burnt her cheeks and mouth, her eyes blinded by the wind crazed silver hair blowing from behind her ears and onto her sighted path made of that familiar calmly scent.

 

...~*~...

 

Realisation was hard to swallow but the figure in front of him was definitely not his brother, Too small and fragile looking, he could distinguish a white cloak of sorts and tight torn armour stained in crimson red. His brother was much larger and covered in raven... He left the comfort of the warm hearth to exit through the doors of the abandoned pine forest cottage. He sped through the ground as the figure collapsed onto the snow, he thought 'that must hurt' as he remembered the time Vilkas smothered his face with snow. The snow was deep and the figure barely visible if not for the red which carried a feral odour. He cautiously approached the still body, he seen a lot of things in his life so outlandish no one believed him, like a talking dog near Falkreath or flying mammoths on the roads close to giant camps. This on the other hand was his first. A small girl made of snow, he thought. All white even her lashes but the blood which stained her naked body was not entirely hers; some wolves, some nords but mostly her own. She had raw and bruised feet from the cold, gushes that were burnt closed, wounds and scars. He still heard her heart though faintly. Bruises covered her whole body. He wrapped her in his brown bear fur cloak and rushed to the warmth of the fire as it was now the only chance for survival the girl had.

 

...~*~...

 

The figure in the distance shouted in a hoarse tone “Vilkas!”. Relief swarmed through him as he now approached his elder shield-brother and mentor. “Where have you been?” Skjor asked with a sly grin. “I'll tell you old man when we get through this blizzard!” Remarked Vilkas, “hah!, watch who you call old man, I'm not the one freezing, while covered in full armour!” Skjor gave Vilkas a directing strong pat on his fur cloak, since the lad became a circle member he's become an annoying brooding pup in Skjor's eyes. They headed back to where Skjor came from, trailing the path he made. “Me and Farkas relocated after you run off, there is a cottage near here, an abandoned one. Farkas is there making some food and resting his leg after that darn dragon.” Skjor growled.

“Dragon?” Vilkas questioned.

“Yeah, after you left we really had a hard time with it. Breathed ice and Farkas had lost his shield, froze his leg but fortunately it’s easier to treat than a burn. If he was still just a nord, it would have been much worse.”

Vilkas strut harder through the snow. ‘Farkas, you better be fine. I have a horrible feeling.’ He beckoned in his mind while guilt for his lack of control hurried him back to his brother.

 

...~*~...

 

Her body was cold and her breathing shallow, Farkas wasn't sure if he should clean her up first of place her under all the fur available. He went for the latter deciding to ignore the irritating smell of wild blood and hunt. He gently settled her next to the fire on a pelt and proceeded to snuggle her in various fur he found in the cottage storage room. He groaned when his leg began to feel like ants. He wasn't sure when Skjor will be back but the commotion outside seemed to calm slightly bringing him hope to see his lost brother sooner rather than later, he now had an extra mouth to feed which was troubling as their supplies were low as is, 'I wonder why this cottage is abandoned' remarked Farkas. His judgement of character told him to be wary yet as honour commanded he would not abandon a helpless woman in need of shelter, after all he was now a man of eighteen, a member of the circle, one of the last ones.

Her face was peaceful as if she suffered no more, her lashes glistened with frozen tears which slowly started to melt down the sides of her face towards her ears. “A nord?” Farkas mumbled to himself. “Maybe a falmer... snow elf?” He recalled Vilkas' telling of books on the ancient race. The beast told him more though as he now being so close could smell her own blood slowly warming, she was a wolf no doubt yet something about her felt different. Her blood run slow unlike any human. ‘Is she still cold?’ Farkas got one more blanket and decided to cover her fully. He could still hear her breathing. ‘Hopefully she will be better soon’ He thought. His eyes shot to his right leg which started to shoot pins up and down his thigh, he took off his trousers as he sat next to the fire with his bad leg closer to the heat. It was purple and laced with blood clots, he couldn’t feel it when he poked it yet this wouldn't take long to heal with his beast blood.

 

...~*~...

 

Vilkas couldn't help but wonder just when had Skjor become so in tune with his own curse. 'To be able to track me down in this storm like it was nothing, and the frost doesn't seem to bother him in the slightest' Vilkas cycled from a mixed vortex of envy, worry and eventually gratitude. They neared a lonely cottage in the deserted Pale forests close to the border of Eastmarch. There was a firelight welcoming through the dim glass windows, Vilkas increased his speed having only to be grabbed back roughly by Skjor. “Do you not smell that?” He warned as he sniffed through the air. Vilkas traced the air like his elder and to his surprise discovered a faint hint of wolf, not quite like any wolf he hunted with before. “Farkas is there too, Skjor.” Vilkas said. “Yet his scent is overpowered by some mutt that went feral, there's blood too.” Skjor took the lead, unsheathing his skyforge steel sword in his right fist.

Vilkas held the handle of his heavy sword above his head ready to draw. The snow made their stomping louder than ever so to take their potential enemy by surprise they had to act fast. After a quick exchange of glances they headed quickly for the door of the cottage to disrupt any unwanted visitor but before they could act upon their worries the door slammed opened and a large familiar figure welcomed them. “Vilkas! Skjor! Come quick!” Farkas yelled in panic.

 

...~*~... ..o0o.. ...~*~...

 

Her skin was on fire, the blood boiled making her toss and turn under the numerous fur which slowly irritated her sweat covered body. She grabbed her left thigh, the bruises irritating and she clawed at the pain. Vilkas watched the bundle of white knotted hair that poked out from under the mountain of fur. “Farkas what is that?” Skjor interrupted Vilkas' staring. “Right, well um... I found her outside, she was well um...” Vilkas looked at Farkas with a raised brow, “Brother why is she? ‘He stressed the word in question’ “covered with a mammoth load of fur?” Skjor ignored the two and he approached the bundle of crazy. As he started to lower himself to take the fur off the bundle, it stopped moving. Vilkas didn't know what to make of this weird animal like behaviour, “Farkas, just tell me you didn't bring this thing here by force?” Skjor asked with his back to the twins. “She was unconscious in the snow! Covered in blood and naked, I figured she was cold but now... Maybe I put too much fur on her.” Farkas looked guilty and Vilkas couldn't help but smirk at his brother. Skjor suddenly yanked the fur upwards uncovering the feral figure. Vilkas' heart stopped as he watched the ghoul like girl and her gaze met his, eyes like the golden sun yet her body frail, bones and bruises. She looked starved, beaten and maybe tortured. She watched her pray but her new body was weak, blocking her way was an old wolf covered in the same pathetic skin as her own. Skjor covered his nose as the potent blood she was covered in called to his beast for release. She lashed out at Skjor all teeth and claws but the man caught her long hair in one fist and quickly with the force of a dragon knocked her out. Her body hit the floor and the twins winced.

“So much for an introduction, Farkas what were you thinking?” Skjor spoke. Farkas looked at the girl with pity then back at Skjor only to meet his disapproving expression. “She’s only a child, I didn’t think she was a werewolf. I couldn’t tell the difference at first” Farkas explained. “A child werewolf, I’ve never seen anything like her, how is she able to turn back?” Vilkas spoke. “I don’t know, she could have been changed young by another wolf quite recently. Judging by her wounds she was just in an awakening scenario, I’d say. A child gets turned, goes on a rampage as a wolf in the woods and the silver hand get to it, some wounds aren’t healing as fast, silver no doubt.” Deduced Skjor. “So if we haven’t gotten here she probably would have changed again, then what would you have done brother?” Asked Vilkas meeting his brothers guilty gaze. “I don’t know but I still believe she needs our help.” Farkas replied. The men stared at the girl on the floor, a moment of silence between them.

“We need to restrain her somehow, show her to Kodlak... She's feral maybe he will know what to do with her.” stated Villas. Skjor turned to him “As if that old man knows anything about the wolf and its manifestations, he's abandoned all hope ever since Ria never came back from that damned witch coven.” Vilkas winced at the mention of her name. The two were inseparable, but Skyrim was a much different place now not only because she was gone. “Then let's take her to the college of Winterhold?” Farkas said as he bent down to cover the little dignity the lost girl had with a blanket. “Farkas don't pretend to know of what we speak.” Said Skjor. “Actually my brother has a point, if not Kodlak then the college is our best bet, it is closer to where we are heading anyway.” Reasoned Vilkas gaining a smile from his brother.

Vilkas thought of the fact that Kodlak wasn't doing well, age and madness slowly creeping up on the previous harbinger, partly the reason he decided to pass on his title to Aela the Huntress. ’Maybe Skjor is right that he is no longer fit to advise’.

“Farkas get me some wool and cloth, I'll take care of something” Skjor was unusually helpful, Vilkas couldn't help but wonder if maybe he felt guilty for the amount of force it took to knock the wolf girl out. ‘She looked bad how can she have energy to even lift her head let alone pounce at a man. Hair as white as the snow yet eyes like a flame… No matter, she was both a danger to herself and others’ Vilkas thought as he started to rummage through their supplies in search of anything to help heal both his brothers wound and the girls.

 

...~*~...

 

Strange noises came to her attention, she was awakening now but this time she wasn't being suffocated.  Her eyes opened to scour her surroundings. She was in a wooden cottage that smelled like pine and berries, The room was lit by a small fire. It flickered and danced but it was tamed. A growling sound met her ears it was unnatural and even, like a snarling prey right before it released its last breath.

“Don't even think about it”

She jolted to her left only to have familiar silver blue eyes stare right at her, the sound of shackles and restraint was created as she tried to pounce away from him. Her hands were bound by cuffs, she struggled to part her hands for a while before looking up in desperation again.

“My name is Vilkas, I'm a member of the Companions and if you prove to be civil, I will undo your restrains and give you back freedom.”

She didn't understand, didn't want to. 'This can't be happening' She repeated in her mind. He was sitting against the wooden wall and while he pushed of the surface he headed for the pot which smelled mouth-watering. Closing her eyes she focused on the memories of wolfs and her den, sweat run down her squinted features. He approached her with a bowl filled with soup in which was a wooden spoon, She shivered and her eyes snapped open but she realised, fur once again covered her body but it wasn't the same, it itched and scratched but kept her warm nonetheless. 'They dressed me?’ She noticed how slowly he approached and snarled at him to stay back.

Vilkas didn't quite know how to react to that... ‘Is she really feral?’ He looked into her orbs of gold and wondered if such a colour can be natural. Alright maybe a change of tactic... he approached her personal space with caution but determination, he knew she couldn't move thus she couldn't hurt him yet that thought didn't erase the unease he felt in his gut but then again, she was only a child. He sat in front of her with his legs crossed as she tossed and struggled with her back pressed against the wall, fear in her eyes. He lifted the spoon filled with soup and called her to “eat”. He watched as she analysed his hands, when she didn't move he brought the spoon to her lips.

A memory embedded far in the land which she forgotten awakened with roaring thunder. She opened her mouth and sipped on the soup, she was hurt, hungry and now homeless. She tried to forget once again but it didn't want to go away... Another spoon was hovering in front of her grabbing her attention but the most fascinating thing she ever seen was beyond it, a kind smile that she would do anything to see again. She knew that the man before here was not the man that haunted her. This smile was honest.


	2. Memories of a companion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some of the last memories of a terminally ill man.

...~*~... ..o0o.. ...~*~...

My siblings play outside my door as I lay in my bed, their chatter and laughter makes me all too wishful. Mother and father don’t let me leave my room, they say a curse is upon me and I mustn't spread it to others. I wouldn't like to leave anyway, I've seen the reflection in the mirror. I only ever see the housekeeper in daylight, she’s a skinny, bent old lady and she refuses to use any means of communication apart from grunts as yes's and grunts as no’s. Sometimes when she makes the bed and doesn't notice my staring, I can see behind her crusty root jaw and ragged yellow tooth the pinkish remains of what once was a tongue.

The twins Lura and Aure as well as my brother Warg knock on my door each morning to say hello, Warg even slides me chalk pictures under the door of their adventures. It’s a shame I can’t get up anymore to pick them up, the keeper trots all over them every day. She's a mute, almost blind and deaf old bat. On the other hand, she feeds me and bathes me because my father thinks she’s most suitable for the task; “Less likely to be missed” I heard him mutter once. I am grateful although not sympathetic. My voice doesn't sound the same anymore, so I don’t speak either, it’s not like she would reply and my siblings are too easily distracted to sit by the hefty door that separates us to listen to my gurgles.

I would have been very lonely if it wasn’t for the lady that stands by my window each night, she carries a long wooden stick with pearls that capture the moons, the light around the gems shines a beautiful iris. She scared me the first night she came, and my very brief scream didn't arise any warnings, but the lady did disappear. I told myself it was only the shadows playing tricks but I pulled over my curtains and lit the candle on a small table in the corner of my room, I was shocked still and she didn't appear until I had started to feel sicker. 

The second night she showed I decided to meet her stance, she didn’t vanish until I had taken a couple shaky steps towards the window. She stayed briefly at first and never let me approach closer, over time I got worse and didn’t even attempt to move from the bed, so she has lingered longer.

I knew she was a woman from the start, long nails that webbed over my window; feminine hands that gave it away. I couldn't see her face for the first few times she came; her hood held her tightly around the darkness. Then to my surprise she reached up to her hood one night and revealed two thick long plats of long silver hair. Her face was pale but her lips a deep purple, dark shadows around her eyes; the brightest flame as I've ever seen like amber but if it could swirl like the sea. I became quite used to her presence and frankly didn't want her to leave. I have no more strength to move at all anymore, even if I wanted to look away I couldn't, the medic came despite my father's warnings to not approach me. He informed me I won't last through this winter. My muscles are deteriorating, my body is being drained of life and I can't help but find it amusing.

Before my siblings I was the one to be of sole inheritance to my parents wealth but when I became ill and started... 'changing' all prospect of that ever happening evaporated. I was just the age of seven and my parents weren’t too old to try for more children, I was so scared of being abandoned, I cried too much back then. My sisters are now the age I was back then. My brother is ten, a little young lord of the house. I love my siblings, they would come to my room to play when they were younger and I’ve only been bed bound for a couple months before I could still play with them in my room, although I have been weak most of my life and I couldn’t participate in more physical games. I have nothing to miss as I’ve never experienced life as they will. I haven’t seen father in years although I do hear him often, his office isn’t too far from where my room is. He’s a superstitious man, brought up around the Vigil of Stendarr. Mother still comes to pray for me, she never gets closer than the door frame. I know I am ill but that is all, I have nothing haunting me. I’ve no marks or curses scratched on my bed posts. Although the moon lady comes to see me sleep each night. She’s the only one who looks at me, truly looks at what's beyond the shrivelled living corpse.

I dare never mention her to anyone, they would say I’ve gone mad. Then again if a man of my age mentioned seeing beautiful women outside my window, it wouldn’t be seen as anything out of the ordinary. If I were to mention that she only comes at night and stands by my window to peer into the room and at the disfigured abomination that I am, my father's patience with my existence would end. I know she isn’t just a woman, I am not a fool. A mage of particular taste in entertainment, a necromancer maybe. Or a necrophiliac, but she likes them when they are still warm. I can only wonder why she is still here.

I have read books many when I could still hold them, being in my room gave me all the time in the world. Before the keeper used to lock my door I would go into father's office and take all the books I could carry, never cared for the titles or cover, just anything to keep the boredom away. Vampires, ghouls, necromancers, daedra and magic; all the topics that excited me to imagine a world of my own. I dreamed to be able to wield magic, dunk my body in a bath of spells and potions.

I’ve no doubt that she is of that world, if only she knew how much I want to join her. If I could be free of myself for only a day, whatever toll, I would pay.

...~*~... ..o0o.. ...~*~...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an experimental chapter with the intention of introducing the main character through another character's perspective. I might rework this a little later. While this is set in the Elderscrolls universe I am mostly borrowing the landmarks, religion/s and characters, still not sure exactly what I wanna do with them :)  
> I have hope that at least this will be a short story of about 20 chapters. I am trying to get ok" at storytelling and writing so any comments are very appreciated.


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